


Captain Dad

by thescienceofsherlolly



Series: Sherlollicious [21]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, I hope it was clear how the made do. like the breadstick was her cutlass etc, Imagination, Married Life, Molly is allowed to play but not when the kids are around, Morbid humour, Parent-Child Relationship, Sherlock plays with his kiddies, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, sort of, this was very quickly written...sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9404612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescienceofsherlolly/pseuds/thescienceofsherlolly
Summary: Cutthroat Clara and Horrible Hamish run into their favourite pirate thief, Captain Dad.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I blame the Final Problem and it's near confirmation of domestic sherlolly bliss for this...thing...hope you like it :)

She stepped out onto the deck of her enormous pirate ship, The Super Hooper, immediately feeling the sun beating onto her neck; wiping the sweat from her brow, the young pirate took note of her breathtaking surroundings. Nothing but shimmering blue ocean surrounded her, the occasional gull crowing overhead and leaping dolphin added to the ambience of the calm waters. She sighed; it had been this way too long. She hadn't encountered another vessel in what felt like years. She was Cutthroat Clara, deadly pirate, feared by everyone who'd met her and Captain of her very own ship, stocked to the brim with bountiful treasure! Not bad for a six-year-old. The youngster ruffled her curly hair and set her hat atop them, before withdrawing her cutlass, pointing it out to sea.

“Hoist the main sail!” She called to her First Mate, Horrible Hamish, a beginner in the pirate trade. Indeed, the newbie was perched cross-legged on the deck, drooling over his own cutlass and banging it repeatedly against the wood. Clara withdrew her compass, twisting the steering wheel until the ship lurched violently, “we’re going home!”

The Super Hooper careened sickeningly, colliding into the side of another ship and throwing Clara from her feet. She struggled onto her knees and looked around, disoriented from the fall; she instantly knew she and her First Mate were no longer alone. Someone had boarded her ship. The _nerve!_ Clara hauled herself to her feet and waved her cutlass in the direction of the figure standing at the edge of her ship, still clutching a rope.

“Avast!” She cried, pushing her hat up and out of her eyes; it was a temporary article, stolen during one of her expeditions.

The figure jumped down and, as he got closer, Clara’s eyes lit up involuntarily. He was tall with a mess of dark curly hair hidden beneath a pirate hat not unlike her own; he wore an eyepatch over his blue eyes and was grinning, a non-menacing grin that made her suspicious. She did have a huge horde of treasure right beneath her feet, after all. He was Captain Dad, her old shipmate and bestest friend, and she loved him loads and loads. But this was business and Clara was no fool. She watched him curiously as he stepped ever closer.

“You have something of mine…and I want it back,” he drawled in his calm pirate voice, not once removing his own weapon from his belt. Clara instinctively glanced behind at her First Mate, who was happily babbling away nonsensically, attempting to reach for the tall pirate with flailing fists.

“You’ll have to get through me first,” Clara retorted in her most threatening voice, standing defensively with her cutlass aimed at the man’s heart. He merely chuckled.

“Have it your way.”

The pirate rushed forwards and seized Clara around the waist, lifting her high no matter how hard she squealed and kicked out. She was helpless. She waved her arms around and tried to knock the man off balance. It seemed to work as he stumbled around, clutching the child to his chest as she fought against him; the two staggered about, bumping into various items aboard the ship until, suddenly, they were tumbling over and plunged in the freezing water. Clara battled against the water hard, splashing about desperately, trying to push herself up for air. Before she could pass out, she was lifted high, out of the water and onto her enemy’s shoulders-

_“Dinner’s ready!”_

“Mummy!” Clara protested, holding her father’s arms as she was lowered from his shoulders. She shoved the breadstick beneath her dressing gown string and folded her arms, pouting, “I was just about to steal Daddy’s treasure!”

“Is that so?” Sherlock replied with a smirk, unwinding the scarf covering his eye, “and may I ask how you were going to do that when you were drowning? I had to save you.”

Clara folded her arms, smiling, “you forgot about my First Mate.”

Sherlock glanced at his young son, still sitting on the bed and slobbering on his rattle. He narrowed his eyes at his daughter.

“That’s sneaky.”

Clara giggled and skipped out of her parents’ bedroom, leaving Sherlock to lift his son and plant a sloppy kiss onto his forehead which, of course, made the baby squeal happily. Molly, who'd been watching the exchange with a fond smile, kissed her dashing husband when he approached her.

"You three having fun?"

"The best," he replied instantly, the dorky grin on his face not once fading. Molly reached down and carefully removed a rubber truncheon from the belt attached to his trousers. She raised her eyebrows and Sherlock cleared his throat, "well, you...only had the one breadstick."

"So that's why I keep ending up with wonky sandwiches."

Sherlock's eyes lit up, “we could get her a real one.”

“Yeah and a gun, too,” Molly laughed good-naturedly, gently extracting her wriggling son from his father's hold.

The family of four sat at their clear (for once) dining table and discussed everything from piratical adventures ( _"maybe next time Daddy we can go to the beach and buld sandcastles and fight other baddies!"_ ) and schoolwork ( _"I got an A on my English homework about serial killers, Mummy. The teacher wants to see you by the way."_ ) to cases ( _"Got an interesting double murder, Molly, love. Need your expertise later, if you don't mind."_ ) and Molly's exquisite cooking ( _"you should be a chef, Mummy! Actually, no...Daddy needs you to cut up the bodies."_ "And people wonder why the teacher wants to see me all the time.")

They may not be a conventional family but, damn it, Sherlock Holmes loved every single person crowded in his kitchen and he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
